Innocent Days
by Frog-kun
Summary: AU without Geass. In a world where Nunally is dead, Lelouch is a rebel without a cause. And into his world of blood-stained deceit enters Suzaku, the white knight, whose innocence is a sin of its own. Suzalulu.
1. she's never coming back

**Author's note: **This story will be nine/ten chapters in total. Basically, it's an AU where Lelouch hasn't discovered Geass and the year is 2020 rather than 2017. So Lelouch and everyone else is three years older than from how they are when they're first introduced in canon.

A note before you begin: the first chapter is set chronologically at the end of the story, so things might not make sense when you begin. You might be able to piece things together, but if you don't, don't worry; everything will make sense in later chapters.

This fic is _very _different from my usual works. I think I'll just let it speak for itself from here.

**one  
>(she's never coming back);<strong>

Lelouch was tired, and so he thought of Nunally first. He thought, through the dim and scratched window of his memory, not of Nunally particularly but of a vaguely pleasant palette of colours that had once painted his existence bright. He shuddered and felt himself clutch against the softness of the bedsheets beside him. It had the same kind of texture as Nunally's hair. It was then he remembered why he preferred to keep the curtains shut over his memories. From there, it was as if his mind clicked into gear, and abruptly, it shifted to the present.

That was how he woke, on a night no different from any other except that today, a few more people might be dead. He just wasn't one of them. Lelouch sat up in his bed and peered out the window. The sky was still inky black and the wind blew, as if hesitant, ruffling the grass in the garden outside. He heard the distant sound of a dog's bark a few houses away. It sounded alien against a landscape of silence.

_Soon_, Lelouch thought. He lay back down and leaned his head back against the pillow. An observer might have thought he was gazing blankly at the ceiling, but his mind was working furiously: measuring, calculating, anticipating. When he heard the knock upon his front door, it merely seemed like a logical extension of his thoughts. He had deeply considered the possibility that this would happen, after all. Lelouch cast a sharp glance at the inconspicuous, black digital clock on his bedside table: _2:06_, the time read.

The knock on the door resounded harshly. It was so demanding, Lelouch reflected as he slipped noiselessly out of his bed. There was no hesitation in the way he gripped his front doorknob, and yet as soon as that thought occurred to him, he noticed his hand clench more tightly and felt his brows furrow. He opened the front door and for a brief moment, a silence, too, opened up before him. It hung in the air between him and the knocker, and then dropped, as if there was a gaping empty chasm between them.

Then Lelouch felt his back slam against the wall behind him.

"You bastard," he heard the man hiss. "You _fucking _bastard."

Lelouch saw the uninhibited rage in the man's features. He was close enough to see every tiny crease in his brow and the whites in his eyes. But none of that conveyed his fury quite like the _contortions _his face made as his eyes blinked and hardened into the most breathtakingly intense glare Lelouch had ever seen.

There were tears in his eyes.

"So," said Lelouch. "You've come, Suzaku."

"You killed her. She's dead and it's all your fault."

His voice was barely above a whisper. Leouch could hear the clock ticking on the wall and the sound of his own hitched breathing.

"I didn't kill her," Lelouch said evenly.

Suzaku's fist clenched tighter against him.

"You did."

"No. The criminal was already arrested, wasn't she?" Lelouch did not know how his face must have appeared to Suzaku, but he saw the other man's reaction: his jaw clenched and his lips tugged downwards aggressively. Lelouch focused his gaze on those lips (but not his eyes – he did not want to remember how they made him feel) and continued, "Kallen Kouzuki. She pulled the trigger."

"And who asked her? Who sweet-talked her into doing it?"

Lelouch couldn't help it. He let out a scornful chuckle that died away on his lips as soon as it came.

"You've gotten so suspicious, Suzaku. You'd doubt your own best friend."

The last word was what made Suzaku flinch.

"I didn't want to believe it," he whispered hoarsely. "I wanted to believe in you until the end."

Lelouch found that he could say nothing. He had heard all of this before.

"What changed?" Suzaku demanded.

"Nothing changed," Lelouch told him wearily. "Only you did."

Suzaku growled. It was then Lelouch made the mistake of looking into his eyes. It startled him the way few things did. Because Suzaku at that moment was nothing more than a lost, defeated boy.

Yet he was a grown man. His cheeks were hollow now and there was a certain jagged quality in the way his jaw was set. It brought attention to the brilliance in his eyes. (And yet he no longer had that sparkle in his eyes he had at the beginning. Lelouch felt his chest constrict and-)

He leaned forward. His mind was swimming into the depths of nothing, and that was all it took, really, to take Suzaku Kururugi's lips against his own.

_Look what you've made me do_, Lelouch thought furiously. _Look what you've made us all do._

Suzaku pushed him away first.

"Wh-What are you-?"

"Quiet!" Lelouch shook his head. "You're a damned fool, Suzaku."

"Don't talk to me like that, Lelouch!" His anger was back. Lelouch shook his head again.

"It's over," he said, and with those words, the finality fell upon him with the same heavy-handedness they fell upon Suzaku. "You're the one who failed."

_(she's never coming back)_

He kissed Suzaku again, and this time the other man responded. His hands flew to his hair and Lelouch felt his fingers pressing against him, pulling their heads closer. Suzaku's tongue was hot and furious; he kissed as if it was the only means he had to express his pent-up frustration. Lelouch knew, understood all too well, because what he did was out of precisely the same emotions. The wan moon cast short, creeping shadows with its sickly light and as for Suzaku, his eyes gleamed in a different way. It was just his way of saying he didn't give a damn anymore. Lelouch closed his eyes.

He thought of his sister with a sort of hollow monotony that always followed anger and always preceded despair. He tasted the saltiness in Suzaku's lips and knew the hollowness belonged just as much to the other man.

To _them_, Lelouch corrected himself and he reached forward into the dark and tugged upon Suzaku's shirt.

"Here?" Suzaku whispered carefully, pulling back. Lelouch measured him with his gaze and then he answered, all the heaviness in the world in the tone of his sigh.

"There's no going back."

* * *

><p>In the morning, Lelouch woke up and it wasn't a dream. He had never considered for a moment that it was.<p>

Suzaku wasn't in the bed, but the scent of him still clung in the air, and it was so thoroughly intertwined with the smell of sex that for a moment, Lelouch found that he could not breathe. He remembered vividly how it felt to have Suzaku's fingers twisting in his hair and to hear him gasping and panting his release. He remembered how bitter Suzaku's cock had tasted and how hot and pulsating it was against his throat. But most of all, he remembered the blinding white numbness of it all. He could attach no particular emotion to the event.

Then he sat up and the thoughts rushed to his head, neatly arranging themselves in an organised manner for him to survey. Suzaku had come for him, just as he had anticipated. By now, he had either left already or was still in the vicinity somewhere. Either option seemed plausible. If Suzaku had left, then he was disgusted. If he had stayed, then he was even more disgusted than Lelouch had previously imagined.

As Lelouch contemplated the thought of it, the bedroom door swung open and there Suzaku stood, his presence jarring and resonating with bitterness.

"Get up," Suzaku told him shortly. "It's today."

He was dressed in his Britannian military uniform. He stood tall and sharp, and his hair was still slightly damp from a recent shower. He was handsome in a dull and insignificant sort of way. Lelouch could not imagine touching him at all.

And yet he had.

"Today, huh?" He pulled the covers off him and abruptly felt more naked than he really was. "I don't suppose I have a choice, do I?"

"No," Suzaku said. "You don't."

He drew closer.

"You're going to watch her die, Lelouch."

And so Lelouch got up and dressed quickly in a clean suit. Together, he and Suzaku went to the prison where the execution of Kallen Kouzuki was taking place. He had not intended to go – not out of cowardice or guilt but because it simply wasn't necessary – but it was one thing he could do for Suzaku. Even now – _especially _now – because it had been that way all along. He stood by the rails and watched as Kallen was led to the gallows.

She looked awful. She was dressed in drab grey prison gear and her eyes were bloodshot and bleary. Her hair, now grown past shoulder length, was frazzled, knotted and dull in sheen. Her hands were tied behind her back and she staggered when an armed guard prodded her with the butt of his rifle. But her mouth, at least, was the same. She still had the ability to inject her own personality and stubbornness into her grimace. For a brief moment as she was led past the onlookers, her eyes latched onto where Lelouch was standing and her mouth tilted upwards and then back downwards. It was all that needed to be exchanged between them.

The execution itself progressed like clockwork. Lelouch noticed Prince Clovis and Viceroy Cornelia watching on from the balcony overlooking the gallows. Their expressions were carefully neutral yet inwardly, Lelouch knew what they felt was supreme vindication. Then the list of Kallen's crimes was read out by a Britannian official, who enunciated his words with a thin-sounding lisp. Lelouch felt Suzaku stiffen involuntarily beside him when the word "assassination" rang out, loud and all too clearly.

There was no moment when Kallen died. There was simply a moment when she was alive and then it was followed by a moment when she was dead. The execution was so smooth and seamless, so clearly the result of many years of prior rehearsal. There was no possibility for intervention. It was over and done with, just like that, and if Lelouch had come expecting some sort of climax or resolution, he would have been sorely disappointed. In the end, Kallen was just another name, added on as a footnote to the exhaustive procession of the dead. Lelouch turned to Suzaku and shook his head as the crowd that bore witness to Kallen's death began to dissipate.

"Did you imagine me up there too?" he asked. "Do you want me punished for my sins, Suzaku? To face my comeuppance?" He could feel himself sneering.

"I tried to," Suzaku replied. "But when the morning came, I realised I couldn't."

And so, Lelouch thought, the cycle would continue, in spite of everything. Only a fool came to an execution expecting death to offer an ending.

He watched Clovis and Cornelia leave out of the corner of his eye, a legion of armed guards following in their wake. He said to Suzaku, "I'm glad Shirley's not here."

Suzaku shot him a glance but said nothing. His mouth twitched. His eyes were moist.

"You saved Shirley," Lelouch pointed out. "At the very least, you accomplished that."

"Are you trying to comfort me, Lelouch?"

"No," said Lelouch. "I was just stating facts."

Suzaku sighed. His remorse was genuine. "I wanted to save everyone."

"I know."

"Even Kallen."

"I know," Lelouch said again. He peered at Suzaku closely. Suzaku was standing tall and firm, like the self-righteous bastard of a white knight Lelouch had always thought he was. And yet that image had already torn itself away at its seams. That was what last night had been all about.

"You wanted to save everyone," Lelouch went on, "the way you thought Euphemia saved you."

Suzaku's shoulders shook.

"You never loved her," Lelouch told him. "Only her innocence."

"Stop it, Lelouch." His voice was flat and weary.

"I loved her innocence too," Lelouch admitted. "Because of Nunally and because of you."

Their eyes met each other then, and they understood now, yet neither of them wanted to.

Then they walked on.


	2. he the knight in shining armour

**Author's note: **This isn't a Lelouch/Shirley fic, but this chapter will have some Lelouch/Shirley content. So yeah, this is a warning to those who aren't a fan of het. Obviously, the eventual pairing won't be Lelouch/Shirley (if that sort of question bothers you).

This chapter takes you back to the beginning of the story. From now on, the chapters will follow each other in a generally chronological order. Updates will be weekly.

**two  
>he the knight in shining armour;<strong>

Lelouch first met Suzaku Kururugi at a Shinto shrine. They met again, over ten years later, at a casino.

Lelouch Lamperouge prided himself on his status as a professional gambler. He was one of the few individuals who could pull it off through the virtue of his wits alone. He could count cards in blackjack, calculate odds in the blink of an eye in poker and in many other subtle ways ease his chances of winning into his favour without ever actively cheating. When he was younger, he had enjoyed chess, but after years of being able to completely manipulate his games, he decided the element of luck was necessary if he was to have any interest in the outcome. So he had turned to the card table and he found it suited him quite well. He was a high-roller player; the gambling stakes were high and each session was like living life on the edge. He won often enough to make a living and lost often enough to retain his thrill of anticipation.

What Lelouch enjoyed about the casino most of all was the people, which was ironic considering his apathy towards them. Countless people came to the card tables thinking they could play – young couples more in lust than in love, businessmen with millions to spare but nothing to give, grey-haired cardsharks who counted themselves as professional as Lelouch – and Lelouch took pleasure in defying their naïve expectations of victory. The best victims were Britannian noblemen; there was nothing that was quite like shocking the pompous sneers from their often bloated faces. Then there were the bunny girls, whom Lelouch seldom noticed and would probably have ignored altogether if his hatred of Britannian nobility had not been such a fundamental aspect of who he was.

He noticed on one particular occasion, because a nobleman attempted to lay his hands on a bunny girl's breasts. Normally, the bunny girls were ridiculously big-breasted, which rather repelled Lelouch if he had to be perfectly honest. This particular girl, however, while by no means flat-chested, was far more reasonably proportioned. Lelouch noticed her face when she jumped backwards in alarm. For a brief, stark moment, it wasn't just disgust that flickered across her features – there was pure, withering hatred, the type that took years to cultivate properly. Lelouch had been intrigued. He proceeded to bust the Britannian lord in the next hand and, rather than choosing to peer at his face, Lelouch watched the girl. A triumphant smile danced on her lips. _"Ha, serves you right!" _she was probably thinking, and then all of a sudden the smile vanished. All that remained was the same vacuous expression all the bunny girls wore.

Lelouch memorised the rest of the girl's appearance then. She had shoulder length auburn hair and a lithe, athletic body that clung tightly to the form-fitting outfit she wore. Lelouch watched as she passed his seat by, carrying a tray of cocktails. He waited and mentally contemplated what benefit his next action would provide him before gesturing to the girl. He cleared his throat. "I want to talk to you."

He noticed the grimace flicker across her face. He marvelled at how he had not noticed the girl earlier.

"Yes?" She came up to him.

"Are you an Eleven?" he asked her.

Her honest eyes told Lelouch what he wanted to know even before the girl bristled and wrapped her arms defensively around herself.

"What of it?" she demanded.

"Nothing," Lelouch chuckled. "I was curious."

"Now that I've sated your curiosity," she said, with a haughtiness that conflicted so jarringly with her undignified outfit that Lelouch smiled. "I'll just go."

"What's your name?" he asked. The next hand was rapidly being dealt. Lelouch peered dispassionately at his cards.

The girl scowled. Lelouch was an upper-class Britannian citizen; he warranted her resentment.

"Kallen," she answered stiffly. "Kallen Kouzuki."

"You have nice eyes," Lelouch told her, while measuring his chip stack appraisingly.

"I'm not going to bed with you," she said.

"That's nice to know."

She stared at him. It seemed that in spite of herself, she was intrigued with him.

"What's with you?" she asked bluntly.

Lelouch folded his hand.

"I thought it would be nice to have a chat," he said, smiling his million-dollar smile that he reserved solely for occasions when he wanted to coax information out of people. "Believe me," he continued, as Kallen's scowl failed to abate, "I have no interest in you as a woman."

He was aware of how Kallen must see him: he was a young man who took pride in his affluence. He was also admittedly handsome. Rather than be comforted by his words, she was merely confused. "What do you want to talk about?" she asked gruffly.

"A girl like you must have a reason for wearing that outfit."

"It's none of your business."

"Never mind, I can guess," said Lelouch. "You're trying to pick up information from the men who come here because a man's tongue is loose in bed."

"Shut up," said Kallen, reddening.

"It's clever and discreet, if a little desperate." Lelouch shrugged. "I'd do the same in your position."

Kallen looked at him strangely. She seemed about to say something when Lelouch's cell phone rang.

He held his hand up, indicating to the dealer that he was sitting out the next hand. Then he answered his phone.

"Hello?"

"Lulu?" It was a young woman's voice. "Are you still at the casino?"

"Yes, Shirley."

"Oh…" She was resigned. "Is it okay if you can come home soon? I've started making dinner."

Lelouch glanced at his chip stack. He supposed he had made enough for the day. Middling earnings, but only bad gamblers complained about something like that, especially on the high-roller tables.

"All right," he said, and hung up.

He turned to Kallen. Surprisingly, she was still standing behind him.

"My wife," he said in explanation, knowing that she had been listening.

"Oh." Kallen blinked. "You didn't seem like the marrying type."

Lelouch didn't know many twenty-year-old men who were. Nevertheless, he had the engagement ring to prove his matrimony and he noticed Kallen eying his ring finger with a mixture of incredulity and slight relief.

He stood up.

"It was nice talking to you," he said, and he supposed he meant it. Kallen was a rather different girl from Shirley.

"You're weird," Kallen said. "I don't want to see you here tomorrow." Then she turned and left him. Lelouch watched the bunny tail on the back of her outfit bob up and down as she walked away. To wear something like that, Lelouch decided, made Kallen the strange one. Or perhaps dangerously sane.

It was one of those brief encounters with a stranger Lelouch would remember for its meaning, but would also put aside indefinitely by the time he came back home to his wife.

* * *

><p>"How was your day?" Shirley asked.<p>

Lelouch made some non-committal response and bit into his steak. Shirley was an average cook and culinary expertise had always belonged with Lelouch. But when they had gotten married, she had insisted she take the traditional role and grudgingly, he had handed the kitchen over to her. She had gotten better over the last year, although Lelouch still privately preferred his own cooking over hers any day. It was one of the many secrets in their marriage.

"And how was your day?" Lelouch asked, quickly shifting their conversation away from the subject of Shirley's polite enquiry. They both knew that she was not very interested in his goings-on at the casino, only in the question of whether or not he had lost.

Shirley brightened at the question. "I bumped into Nina today."

"Oh, really?" Lelouch smiled now and eased into his chair properly. He dabbed at his mouth daintily with his napkin.

"Yeah," Shirley said happily. "She was doing some kind of experiment at our campus today. She said she was doing well lately. She changed her hairstyle recently. She looks so pretty now!"

Shirley continued talking and Lelouch listened. His high school friends had been an agreeable lot for the most part – not the types one wrote poetry about but certainly not the types who would leave him in a ditch either – and Lelouch was glad that growing up had not meant that he had to leave them altogether. After Nunally and Suzaku, his Ashford Academy student council days were the most idyllic he had known. This was strange considering he had spent the majority of high school in either mind-numbing boredom or in mind-numbing fear over the possibility that the president might make him dress up as a turnip. Or a girl. Lelouch didn't know which one was worse.

When Shirley exhausted the topic of Nina, she got up and started cleaning the dishes. The silence came then. Lelouch leaned back against his seat and thought his own thoughts.

He was still bored. Life for him, he had decided, was still trapped in that achingly slow stage that was the very antipode of chaos. Gambling had allure but no overall purpose, although Lelouch had no desire to join Shirley in college either. He knew that he probably disappointed her. She had entered the marriage thinking that she could change him or had already done so, but Lelouch was restless. The world moved at a different pace to him.

That night, Lelouch lay in bed reading a book by lamplight. He preferred to be solitary in the evenings. When he heard the bedroom door creak open, he knew when his time alone had come to an end.

The night before Lelouch reencountered Suzaku, Shirley opened the door, dressed in a red gown Lelouch had never seen on her before. She paused at the foot over their bed, one finger tracing her abdomen through the silk.

"What do you think?" she asked tentatively.

"You look good." He refocused on his reading and turned a page. The book detailed Marxian economics and its relevance to Britannian sociology.

He heard his wife's footsteps draw closer. Shirley gently prised the book away from his fingers.

"Lulu," she began quietly. She swallowed. "Please answer me. Have I been good to you?"

"Yes," he said. "Of course."

Now that she was close, he could smell her perfume. A French brand – it reminded him of the fat Britannian lady he had sat next to at the baccarat table earlier that day. Somehow on Shirley, the effect was quite different. She was a pretty, slender young woman.

"Oh, good," said Shirley, relieved. "I-I love you, Lulu."

Lelouch paused, uncertain of how to respond.

"I thought," said Shirley, smiling wistfully, "that you were my prince. You know, he the knight in shining armour. A girl can dream, huh?"

Lelouch frowned. "I'm right here," he pointed out.

Abruptly, she took his hand. "Please love me, Lulu," she whispered hesitantly, and then she guided his hand towards her breast.

"Ah," said Lelouch, understanding what all of this was about now.

"I want to please you," Shirley insisted. "I want to make you happy. I… I'm not being too forward, am I?"

"No," Lelouch responded, not unkindly.

That night he did love her, and she embraced his body from beneath him and panted, writhed and moaned against his neck. She did it with true earnest, as if it was the only thing she knew how to do. Her eyes – bright, shining, liquid – were like that of a virgin lover.

Lelouch fell into an exhausted sleep that night. He dreamed of Nunally and feather-like embraces and a wide, green peaceful world.

* * *

><p>He woke up and the weather was shit.<p>

Rain cascaded down from the heavens, urged on by a furious blowing wind that threatened to pierce a person's body through. Worst of all, it reduced the speed of the traffic to a crawl and Lelouch found his fingers drumming impatiently on his steering wheel when his car jerked to a halt for the umpteenth time. In order to pass the time, he scrutinized the billboards. Some of them were advertisements, but most of them were posters of the Third Prince of the Britannian Imperial Family, Clovis la Britannia. Clovis – the proof that the world was not about to change anytime soon. It was there in his features; they were just as aesthetically appealing as Lelouch's in the same somewhat effeminate way. It taunted at him. Lelouch tore his gaze away and drove on.

He eventually arrived at the casino about an hour later than usual. It was not an ordinary day and so Lelouch decided that today he would play at the eastern end of the casino – with the Elevens, no, the Honorary Britannians. They were generally the worse players, which made sense since half of them were doped up during the hands. When Lelouch wanted to make easy money, he played with the Honorary Britannians.

On retrospect, it probably had not been a good idea. Within two minutes of sitting down to play, the gunfire started.

Lelouch was well-accustomed to the occasional conflict at the card tables. Men often had knives concealed among their clothing, although seldom did any actual violence occur. If it did, it was quickly subdued.

So when he heard the gunfire, Lelouch's first reaction was one of astonishment. He swung his head around in search of the source of the noise, but simultaneously, the casino broke out into chaos. He heard screams – mostly from the female patrons – and urgent yelling from the personnel. The lights flickered. The screaming swelled in volume. Lelouch detected within himself the beginnings of a pounding headache.

But there was no time to think about the condition of his own head, he decided. He had been sitting at a table furthest away from the exit, so he was the furthest from safety. Lelouch had no idea where the gunmen were (at least he knew there was more than one of them) and his first impulse was to duck under the table. As he did, he caught a flash of sight of a blonde-haired man in a suit three tables away slumping over. He had been _hit_, Lelouch realised, startled.

After he had hastily positioned himself under the table in an undignified sprawl (it would do for now) Lelouch took stock of his situation. His table, which had once been occupied by about five other players and an ethnic dealer, had already been completely vacated. And since the shooting sounded dangerously close…

So. That narrowed down the reasons behind the incident. Lelouch's suspicions were confirmed when he peered up and caught sight of Kallen dashing past his table. She wasn't armed but she certainly had her wits about her. Not, Lelouch thought wryly, a damsel in distress type. So when she said _"I don't want to see you here tomorrow," _it had been an oblique warning to him. It figured.

He waited. Just as he expected, the gunfire ceased abruptly within a minute of its starting. It had been a hit-and-run incident. But the babble of urgent yelling pervaded and Lelouch chose to remain hidden under the table. He was not quite ready to venture out into the open.

He noticed dozens of uniformed men run by the table. One of them noticed Lelouch and stopped, crouching down in front of him.

"Are you all right?" he asked. Lelouch could not see his face; the corner of the table obscured it from view. "Here, I'll help you up."

Lelouch hesitated for a moment, but the man continued to wait expectantly for him. Lelouch grabbed his hand (it was a warm, strong hand, suited for giving handshakes) and the man pulled him firmly and easily to his feet.

"Thanks," said Lelouch.

"Just follow me," said the man good-naturedly. "I'll get you somewhere safe, all right?"

They looked into each other's eyes at precisely the same time.

What Lelouch thought of first was not a name. He thought of how it smelt outside among the aroma of the bushes, how the rocks felt when he accidentally scraped his knee on them during climbing. He thought of Japanese summers (Japan, not Area Eleven) and how it felt to be stupid, not clever, and how much fun that had been before the pain had come.

"Is that you?" he asked slowly.

It seemed to him that at once the noise in the casino dimmed. It had not vanished altogether but it was muffled now.

And the man said, his eyes widening in shock and delight:

"Lelouch?"

If only, Lelouch thought later on, if he had been aware then what it all meant, what his memories had meant, what the earnestness in those bright green eyes had meant. But then, he reflected, if he had known, he probably would not have been able to keep himself wholly distant anyway. Some things had to give.

And so he smiled in a way that he might not have smiled in years, and he said:

"It's been a while, Suzaku."


	3. refrain

**three  
>refrain;<strong>

"_I don't get why you're staying here," said Suzaku haughtily._

"_Because," Lelouch told him irritably, "I'm your hostage."_

"_No way! We Japanese are above that!"_

"_No, you aren't. You're an imperialist nation that needs to protect its natural resources."_

"_You know what," said ten-year-old Suzaku. "Screw you! I hate your guts!"_

"_And I detest your intestines!"_

"_Stop being such a fancypants!"_

"_You should stop being such a pighead then!"_

_Suzaku punched Lelouch in the face; and they weren't quite friends yet._

(refrain)

_It took a few weeks of terse exchanges and sulky demeanours before a flag of truce was raised._

"… _Lelouch."_

"_What?"_

"_I heard what happened to your sister."_

"_Oh."_

"_I'm…" Suzaku struggled with his words. "… Sorry."_

"_Why are you sorry?"_

"_I didn't know."_

"_I don't want you to feel sorry for me."_

"_What was it like having a sister?"_

"_Now you're just being insensitive."_

"_Well, _so-rry_!"_

"_Hmph."_

_There was a pause._

"_She was… little. My sister," Lelouch said finally. "She was very little."_

"_I wish I had siblings."_

"_I don't like all my siblings."_

"_But at least you had them."_

"_Why'd you want them…?"_

_Suzaku wrinkled his nose. "They'd be better company than you, at least."_

(refrain)

"_I'll show you my secret base," Suzaku said to Lelouch._

"_I bet it's smelly."_

"_You're smelly."_

"_Your base is smelly."_

"_So are you."_

"_This conversation is going nowhere," said Lelouch._

_Suzaku showed Lelouch around his secret base._

"_No one knows about this place," he enthused._

"_Hence why it's a secret base."_

"_Stop making fun of me."_

"_If you don't like me, why'd you take me here?"_

"_Because I don't have any brothers or sisters to take."_

"_What about your cousin?"_

"_Kaguya doesn't count."_

_Lelouch didn't quite follow Suzaku's line of reasoning, but then, very little of what the young Japanese boy said made sense to him anyway._

"_How about," said Suzaku, "we be brothers?"_

"_Ew," said Lelouch._

_Suzaku punched him._

"_You're an idiot," he said._

"_No, I'm not," Lelouch replied tartly. "I'm not your brother, so therefore I'm not an idiot."_

"_Not _real _brothers, dimwit. Soul siblings!"_

_Lelouch stared at him as if he was faintly mad._

"_You don't even like me."_

_Suzaku blushed hotly. "Who says I don't?"_

"_You did. When we first met."_

"_Yeah, well…" Suzaku scratched his cheek, scowling. "I rethought what I said. Because, uh…" His cheeks reddened. "I thought it was brave of you to be like this even after what happened to your mother and sister, and I'm just a kid and nothing like that's ever happened to me, so…"_

"_Run-on sentences," Lelouch said. "I hate them."_

"_I hate you."_

"_I just made you contradict yourself again," Lelouch said proudly._

_Suzaku scowled; and for the first time since his sister's death, Lelouch mustered a smile._

* * *

><p>"Maybe now's not a good time," Suzaku said sheepishly. The casino was still in an uproar. Lelouch wondered how he could even have momentarily have forgotten what a cacophony the general discord caused. He was certainly unable to ignore it for as long as he remained in the vicinity.<p>

Later, Lelouch discovered that what had happened was that Prince Clovis had made an appearance at the baccarat table and that there had been an assassination attempt on him. It had failed, of course; the royal prince was too well-protected to be disposed of so easily. This did not quite explain the gunshots Lelouch had heard in the east end of the casino but it did explain the panic. Lelouch had not caught sight of Clovis – the casino was a big place, after all – but he did wonder what would have happened if Clovis had been killed.

He would have gotten replaced by one his siblings, that was all. Then life would have gone on, Lelouch reminded himself.

But for now, Lelouch remained with Suzaku, his heart still thumping frantically from the earlier adrenaline. He wondered briefly if Shirley had heard what had happened yet. Then he wondered if Kallen had been caught; she'd been rather inconspicuous as a bunny girl but she did have something to do with the entire mess. It was hard for Lelouch to investigate anything because as a civilian, he had no access to any information whatsoever. All he was actually capable of doing was tossing his head around at random to try and discern any observations from among the chaos. But there was nothing to take note of now because his senses were overloaded. Invariably, it was in the quieter moments that one learned the most. Lelouch shook his head ruefully at the thought; he was no different from the hundred other patrons who were gazing about themselves in confusion. The security probably wanted him out of the casino altogether. Lelouch did not mind because he wanted to talk to Suzaku. There was more of value that he could learn from him.

Outside, it seemed as if there a lull had settled over the proceedings. The weather was still awful and it dampened any sort of urgency in the situation. But when Lelouch glanced behind him at the exit, others were leaving the casino in droves. Ahead on the roads, the traffic was caught in a jam. Lelouch decided that in this case, more haste meant less speed: he could take his time getting home.

He turned to Suzaku. Suzaku turned to him.

"What were you doing at the casino?" they asked in unison.

Suzaku blinked. Then he laughed, revealing a boyish grin and a row of strong, healthy white teeth. "We're in synch!"

"Not like before," Lelouch replied, smiling now too. "Remember when we first met?"

Suzaku remembered. Lelouch watched him chuckle and could not help but marvel on what a strange twist of fate that had brought about their reunion. Suzaku had grown too. He had transformed from a somewhat stocky boy to a lithe and sinewy young man. It even occurred to Lelouch that Suzaku had somehow become handsome. And yet all the features that had been so distinctly _Suzaku_ were still there, just as Lelouch remembered them: the same mess of curly brown hair, the same smooth, slightly tanned skin, the same earnest green eyes. No wonder Lelouch had recognised him in a heartbeat.

"I'm a patron," Lelouch told Suzaku. "I play cards."

"If it's you, you must be pretty good at it," Suzaku replied. "I'm a soldier in the military."

"A soldier?" Lelouch repeated, taken aback.

"Yeah." Suzaku ran a hand through his curly brown hair sheepishly. "I'm meant to be helping out right now with the security, actually. I'll see you later, Lelouch?"

Lelouch felt as if he'd been slapped on the face with a brick. This was strange because it would have actually made less sense if Suzaku had _not _changed in ten years. It explained the grey Britannian military uniform, at least. But still – proud, stubborn patriotic Suzaku an Honorary Britannian? It really wasn't an ordinary day at all, Lelouch reflected.

"Here," he said abruptly. He found a piece of paper in his pocket and hastily scrawled his address on it. "Come when you have time."

"It really is good to see you again, Lelouch."

There was no doubt in Lelouch's mind that Suzaku was telling the truth. He was far too honest a person for that. Occasionally, he lied out of well-intentioned kindness, but his face was just too clear for deception.

Suzaku took the paper.

"Thank you," he said. "And bye!"

When Suzaku left, there was nothing for Lelouch to do. The rain had cleared but the wind remained. It buffeted Lelouch on the spot and reminded him, not so subtly, how powerless he was against the elements.

Then Lelouch went home to Shirley.

* * *

><p>They lived on the Lamperouge estate, which actually belonged to the Ashfords. Shirley had initially been beyond impressed when she discovered that Lelouch lived in a mansion, but since moving in to live with him, she had realised that none of Lelouch's wealth really belonged to him at all. It was about as legitimate a source of money to her as Lelouch's earnings from the casino.<p>

Today, however, money was the least of Shirley's concerns.

"Are you all right, Lulu?" she asked him anxiously. "You didn't get hurt, did you?"

Lelouch had bruised his elbow against the card table but was otherwise unharmed. He had a bigger concern in mind.

"Maybe," said Shirley thoughtfully, "you shouldn't go to the casino if it's so dangerous."

It was laughable, really, how she latched onto any excuse to convince him out of gambling. Almost endearing, since she was always indirect, never pushy.

The underlying feelings, however, were undeniably irritating.

"It was an assassination attempt on Clovis," Lelouch said, adopting a reasoning, agreeable tone. "The fact that it had happened at a casino is a moot point. My arrival and Clovis's arrival were two independent events.

"Besides," he continued, thinking of Suzaku. "The security was highly competent. I was actually safer there than I might have been elsewhere had the same incident taken place."

"Oh, I guess you're right, Lulu," his wife replied, for the moment completely swayed. His logic had that effect on people. "But still, promise me you won't do anything dangerous."

So they worked out a compromise: Lelouch would not return to the casino until the incident had blown over (Lelouch hadn't planned to anyway). In the meantime, he could play poker over the Internet or something of that sort. Lelouch preferred the atmosphere of a live card table, but the Internet would have to do for now.

They had just worked all of this out when the doorbell rang. _Suzaku_, Lelouch realised, and sprang eagerly to his feet.

"Hi, Lelouch," said Suzaku when Lelouch opened the door for him. He was dressed casually in jeans and a blue jacket and, most fascinatingly, he was carrying a bouquet of flowers.

Lelouch couldn't help it. He laughed. "What's with the flowers?" he asked.

"I thought I'd bring a gift," said Suzaku, reddening.

"I understand that," said Lelouch, continuing to chuckle. "But flowers – really?"

Suzaku thought about that. "They were a bad move, weren't they?"

"They were," said Lelouch agreeably. "But don't worry about it. I'm sure Shirley would like them. Shirley!"

Dutifully, his wife appeared from the living room.

"Flowers," Lelouch said, and held the bouquet out for her. "They're for you."

"Oh." Shirley blinked. "Thank you!" She noticed Suzaku at the doorway. "Is that your friend, Lulu?"

She was hesitant. Suzaku was an Eleven. While Shirley was an amiable girl, she had been brought up in a culture that was eternally suspicious of the Elevens.

Suzaku noticed, and ever so slightly, his face fell.

"He's my friend," Lelouch said firmly. For a moment, he was tempted to put his arm around Suzaku's shoulder, but then he remember he just wasn't a touchy feely person, and besides, he and Suzaku had only just met each other again. "He'll be staying for dinner, won't you, Suzaku?"

"Only if that's all right," Suzaku interjected meekly.

Shirley looked from Lelouch to Suzaku. After a moment of consideration, her suspicion melted away into kindness. "Any friend of my husband's is a friend of mine," she declared. "I'm Shirley. Pleased to meet you!"

Lelouch watched the two of them shake hands and felt relieved that just for this moment, a Britannian and a Japanese person could get along. It would only work for a small selection of people, but at least it was a pleasant enough diversion from all the brewing hostility.

At length, Shirley departed for the kitchen to prepare dinner, and Lelouch and Suzaku retired to the drawing room. Lelouch was pleased to note that his maid Sayoko had recently vacuumed the room and left it in a pristine condition.

"You have a nice house," Suzaku remarked cheerfully.

"Of course," Lelouch responded with a smile. "You know who I am. But here," he added quickly, "you should call me Lelouch Lamperouge."

Suzaku nodded. "Does your wife know? Speaking of which, she's very nice, you know."

Lelouch shook his head uneasily. "I'd rather not burden her with unnecessary details."

"I see." Suzaku paused. Then he smiled. "I didn't expect to meet you again, Lelouch."

"Same here."

It could have ended there. Neither of them could have penetrated deeper. But Lelouch turned to Suzaku then, and there were some things, he realised abruptly, that needed to be asked.

"Why did you become a soldier, Suzaku?"

He asked, and so he heard the response.

"I thought I could change the system from within."

"I see," said Lelouch, smiling pleasantly enough. "I see."

* * *

><p>Suzaku visited a few times after that and Lelouch entertained him on those occasions when he had time off his duties. For the most part, however, life at the Lamperouge household slipped back into the same old routine, and Lelouch was almost disquieted by that.<p>

He was home all day; that much was different. Shirley left home early in the morning to go to college and that left Lelouch to his own devices, for the most part. He spent his days on the computer, alternating between Internet Poker and looking up the news. The latter was actually far more interesting than the former.

He discovered that there had been one fatality as a result of the casino incident. It was the man Lelouch had seen shot that day. The name of the deceased was Diethard Ried and he had been a Britannian reporter. Upon further research, Lelouch discovered that there were rumours floating around the Internet that Diethard been involved in a drug ring. Lelouch thought he had an inkling of what it was. He was a consummate gambler, and so he was convinced that he could reliably bet his house on it.

"Refrain," he said to Suzaku the next time his old childhood friend came to visit. "What do you think of it?"

Suzaku gazed at him soberly, even as he smiled. His righteous passion had been ignited. "It's a terrible thing," he said strongly. "It takes advantage of the Japanese. But I think I can understand why people would use such a drug."

They had conversations like this, sometimes for hours on end. While Lelouch never agreed entirely with what Suzaku said, it was interesting to hear his point of view on things. It helped him discover things about his friend he thought he had lost ten years ago.

"I mean," Suzaku continued, and Lelouch listened. "When you grow up, the one thing you want the most is to go back to your childhood and I think that's what Refrain does. It takes you back to your innocent days."

In other words, Lelouch thought, it was an effective way to cash in on someone's longing for nostalgia. He could understand that, he supposed, but he could not contemplate losing his grip on his reality. If there was one thing Lelouch had genuine control over, it was his own intelligence. He could not fathom relinquishing it for the sake of indulgence.

Suzaku looked at him. "Why do you ask about Refrain?" he asked curiously.

Lelouch explained what he had learned about Diethard. Suzaku listened.

"I don't think anyone deserves to die," he said finally. "Not even him." He added quickly, "But I hate Refrain."

Suzaku, Lelouch decided, had without a doubt mellowed immensely since the days of their youth. At least they didn't fight and bicker with each other anymore, which Lelouch supposed was a good thing.

The next day, without telling anyone, Lelouch went back to the casino. His intellectual curiosity had been piqued and he required an outlet. That was the rationale he maintained within his head, although in truth he had far shallower reasons. Shirley would be disappointed, he knew, but of course, she had no way of knowing about it.

In any case, Lelouch did maintain a small hope that, far from winning or losing, he would see…

"It's you," he said, and broke into a smirk.

Kallen Kouzuki was placing a cocktail beside a patron's hand on the blackjack table. When she heard Lelouch's voice behind her, she jolted upright and very almost upset the glass over the table.

"Wh-What?" She turned around and stared at Lelouch, stunned, as if he had grown another head.

"Still wearing that outfit, I see," Lelouch remarked casually. He sat down at the table and fished into the pockets of his suit for his wallet.

He did not have to look at the bunny girl to know that she was spluttering and flailing and was overall rather red in the face.

"It's been a while," he said. "Perhaps we should talk."

She was beginning to compose herself now. She gazed at him, measuring him in that sort of way men did when they appraised and calculated each other's worth. It was somehow refreshing to be on the receiving end of that gaze from a woman.

"Perhaps we should," she said finally.

Lelouch played blackjack for the next half hour. He tried to play safely so that he could break even, but the man next to him was a bad player and Lelouch found he was losing money. Kallen watched him with silent yet ill-concealed frustration. Eventually, Lelouch stood up. He had finished anticipating every possible angle his conversation with the Japanese rebel could possibly take.

"Shall we?" he said.

Kallen glanced around herself. Her eyes hardened.

"Sure," she responded.

They walked to a relatively secluded foyer of the casino. The hubbub from the game room was quieter here and there were several empty cushioned seats dotting the room. Lelouch sat down next to a pot plant and motioned for Kallen to sit as well. She didn't. She stood and paced around the on the carpet and cast harried glances around the foyer. A young couple was seated on a pair of seats on the opposite end of the room. They were holding hands and gazing intently at each other. Kallen turned back to Lelouch, satisfied that there were no eavesdroppers but still ill at ease nonetheless.

"Nice double bluff," Lelouch said suddenly. "You've learned well from observing the plays."

Kallen frowned. Standard card player talk, she knew, but with a hidden meaning.

Lelouch was certain that the girl was clever enough to work it out. There was no way an assassination attempt on Clovis would work in a casino, but it did serve to mask the true target of the shootout: Diethard Ried. The only question left to ask was:

"What's your father's surname?"

"Stadtfeld," Kallen spat.

"An honorable surname," Lelouch said languidly. The girl had first introduced herself to him as Kallen Kouzuki – it was either her mother's name or a name she had invented for herself. Either way, she had Britannian blood in her. "I imagine all the Elevens working here were sacked."

"Are you threatening me?"

"I have no interest in feeble acts of rebellion," Lelouch answered smoothly. "If you're to fight, you may as well aim for the head. But I suppose you can't," he continued, and the expression of open disgust on Kallen's face merely deepened. "Your army was completely obliterated ten years ago. You have no Kyoshiroh Tohdoh to lead your liberation front. No man of miracles. Only small pockets of strength like you."

Kallen seemed as if she was physically struggling to prevent herself lunging at Lelouch and punching him on the nose. Lelouch laughed.

"I didn't call _you _weak," he pointed out. "But Japan as a whole is weak."

Kallen paused at that. "You said Japan, not Area Eleven."

Lelouch had discussed that matter with Suzaku. Suzaku did not seem to mind being referred to as a number, although it seemed condescending to Lelouch. The two of them were equal, at least in the sense that they were friends.

But as for Japan, Lelouch thought with a shake of his head. The once proud island nation was reduced to shambles now. The military had not simply crumbled; the very heart of the populace was gone. Whoever had devised Refrain had to be the most successful man who had ever lived. While very little coverage of it was portrayed on the media (nothing anti-Britannian ever was), its impact on Area Eleven could not be overstated. As a restraining tool, it far surpassed force. It even improved Britannia's economy.

"I suppose your first task is to save Japan from Refrain," Lelouch said.

"Of course!" Kallen replied vehemently, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Refrain is awful! I hate it!"

Suzaku had said the same thing, Lelouch recalled. And he had said it with less anger and more of a sad understanding in his eyes. But the weight and pain their nation had brought upon their shoulders was probably equal for both of them.

How weak, Lelouch could not help but think. That these people who had for so long prided themselves on their virtues would become a nation of drug addicts. Never mind saving them from Britannia, they needed to be saved from themselves too. Much as he despised Britannian nobility, Lelouch was no Japanese sympathiser, even if a Japanese man was his best friend.

"I don't believe in taking sides," he said to Kallen.

"Why talk politics at all, then?" she pressed him.

"Names will change," Lelouch replied, "but the world won't."

He stood up from his seat.

"Wait!" Kallen cried. She grabbed his arm and twisted him back to face her. "I can't let you leave."

It was then Lelouch felt a jolt of trepidation touch his heart. He smiled. There was a knife pressed against his throat.


	4. a man in love

**Author's note: **There are a few important aspects of this AU which were never referenced in the summary. It's a bit of an oversimplification to say that there is no Geass in this universe: truth is, it does exist because otherwise Marianne's "death" would never have happened. But in this story, I won't be going deeply into the backstory of that and that is what I mean by there being no Geass. As for C.C., in this story Clovis never captured her, so she's probably still out there somewhere roaming free. Obviously, this means the Shinjuku incident never happened, and as this chapter will probably show you, that would have its own unique consequences.

There are some more differences between this world and the canon universe and I hope you've had fun picking out all of them so far. There's more to come, too. Just a word of warning, though: I might not be able to update this chapter at the regular time next week because year 12 exams are coming up and I'll have to go on a temporary hiatus because of it. Sorry about that. Anyway, that's enough preamble. Onto the chapter!

**four  
>a man in love;<strong>

Shirley was waiting at the door for him when he came home.

It had been a trying day for him. He knew that he should feel a sinking sensation in his stomach at being caught out, but his mind was elsewhere. Shirley said, "Lulu, where were you?" and Lelouch said, "You know where I went." He tried to move past her.

But Shirley remained resolutely where she stood. She held up a restraining hand that guided Lelouch's gaze towards her face. She was tired, indubitably so, but the weariness was merely a facet of her multi-layered expression. Her smile lodged into place like a piece of a mosaic. "Oh, Lulu…" She heaved a sigh. Lelouch could sense a confrontation approaching and it was this realisation that shifted his thoughts away from what had happened at the casino.

"Shirley," he began, searching quickly for words, but then Shirley shook her head slowly and shuffled aside.

"Come on in," she said.

* * *

><p>Manipulating the conversation with Kallen had been difficult but within his capabilities. The moment she pressed a switchblade knife against his throat had been Kallen at her most dangerous.<p>

And Lelouch said, "You can't kill me in public, so I assume you're trying to kidnap me."

"With what you know, you could jeopardise our plans," she hissed into his ear. She was leaning in close to him as if she was about to kiss him and in fact that was how it would have appeared to any onlooker. Nothing suspicious at all.

"If I wanted to betray your presence to the authorities," Lelouch told her, "I would have done so already. But I suppose the possibility I could change my mind would always remain at the back of your mind."

She scowled; he had hit the nail on the mark.

"I told you before," Lelouch said smoothly. "I don't believe in taking sides. Another thing," he continued. "Although I admit I know very little about your code of honour, wouldn't terrorising civilians be against what you're trying to achieve? You're not terrorists, after all, you're _freedom fighters_. By choosing to antagonise me, you run the risk of not only losing your own countrymen's support, you might provoke Britannian resistance as well. And you don't have the manpower yet to fight a pitched war. Well, Kallen?"

As he spoke, he saw the expression Kallen's face flicker with uncertainty. Abruptly, she drew back so that she was no longer in such close proximity to him. She exhaled harshly.

"I think it's better if we never spoke again," she said.

"Maybe so," Lelouch replied vaguely. "Maybe so."

They parted ways, both of them keenly aware of who possessed the upper hand. Lelouch left the casino with the sound of an imperfect cadence ringing in his ears. One more chord was needed to resolve his entire song. What Lelouch intended to do he did not know, but some tantalising possibility whispered to him. He was flirting with a life he would have led.

But when he came home to Shirley, all his majestic chords faded to muffled background noise. He was not Lelouch vi Britannia, he was Lelouch Lamperouge. He was tied down to the mundane.

What, he wondered, had led him to become even more dissatisfied with this peaceful monotony? He thought for a moment and it made sense. Suzaku. Him and his impassioned views. When Suzaku had first mentioned his desire to change Britannia from within, Lelouch felt his insides squirm slightly. He felt as if something cold had just passed through him.

Then the disappointment settled over him.

"I see. I see."

"I'll get into a position where I can suggest changes to the system," Suzaku said cheerfully. "If I work hard, I'll be sure to be promoted."

"Suzaku," Lelouch said slowly. He thought of Lord Jeremiah, the esteemed pilot of the Lancelot and leader of the Purist Faction, and of the speeches he had made on television. _("Our country has no future if we count the Japanese as members of our own race! What would be left of our culture, of our unique greatness?") _"Have you not been promoted yet?"

"Not yet, no."

"And how long have you been in the military?"

"Five years this fall," Suzaku replied. "Why?"

Lelouch did not want to say what he felt, that he was certain Suzaku would never be promoted, not for as long as men like Jeremiah had power to wield.

Thinking about it all at night, Lelouch understood why he called himself neutral. His lack of resources made it impossible to be anything but.

"Lulu, what are you thinking about?" Shirley asked him that night in bed. She had not mentioned the casino at all. The thought lay between them like an unborn child.

"It's nothing," Lelouch said.

"That's a lie," Shirley replied. "You're always thinking." She smiled tiredly. "Good night."

Normally, Lelouch would have nodded at that; she would have rolled on her side and he would have gazed at the ceiling. But this time, he caught something in her voice and he turned his head to the side to peer at her.

Glistening wetness. It was there in her eyes fleetingly. She rolled over then, and nothing was said. Lelouch felt as if he had seen something he had not been meant to see.

He tilted his head back up, gazed at the ceiling like he was meant to; and he knew he would not sleep that night.

Then the quietness settled.

* * *

><p>Suzaku came like a saviour mid-morning the next day. He rang the doorbell and asked, bashful smile playing on his lips, if Lelouch would like to spend some time with him today. He was even dressed in white – his jumper was creamy white and seemed suspiciously like something purchased from a second-hand clothing store. His presence was something of a comfort to Lelouch.<p>

"Yes, yes," Lelouch said quickly. "I'll go."

He glanced behind himself at Shirley, who was preparing to leave for college. She was already dressed in a sleek, brown skirt and wearing very light makeup on her face. She appeared like any decent well-to-do city girl would. Lelouch explained that he was going out with Suzaku and quickly found his things. It occurred to him that Suzaku would not judge him and would probably try to cheer him up. The insurance was there and simply knowing that relieved him for now.

"So where do you want to go?" Lelouch asked Suzaku when they were out the door. The sun shone brightly over a clear sky. In spite of that, it wasn't particularly warm and Lelouch felt a small shiver pass through him as he gazed at Suzaku and found his friend gazing back at him.

"I'm not sure," Suzaku replied. "Maybe Shinjuku."

Lelouch shot him a puzzled glance. "Why the ghettos?"

"Because," Suzaku replied tentatively, "I thought I could… I thought maybe…" He stopped and ran a hand through his hair, the way he always did when he was at a loss for words. "I wasn't thinking, Lelouch."

"You've been giving your paycheck to the ghetto dwellers, haven't you?"

Suzaku blinked.

Lelouch sighed. It was all the answer he needed. As usual, he did not have the heart to mention that the truth was far from Suzaku's imagination. He thought by giving he could do good but when it came to the ghetto dwellers, it made no difference except in the number of Refrain sales.

Even so, Lelouch could not help but feel a rush of glowing, warm affection for this foolish, kind friend of his.

"Let's eat somewhere," he said. "I'll tell you a few things."

So they did and Lelouch debated with himself whether or not to confide about Shirley to Suzaku. He was not accustomed to discussing his feelings. In the end, he only mentioned Shirley fleetingly, enough to insinuate that he was not quite sure how to show his regard for her. To that, Suzaku smiled and said:

"You really aren't good with women, are you, Lelouch?" He laughed, not derisively or in cajolement; his eyes sparkled with mirth. "I'm surprised you're married. How did you propose?"

"I don't remember," said Lelouch.

"Was it that long ago?"

"Well, no," Lelouch answered. "It was about two years ago." He thought back. "We were friends in the student council."

"And then?"

Under Suzaku's eager nudging, Lelouch revealed in snippets the birth of his relationship with Shirley. They were at their graduation ceremony and she took him aside and told him in no uncertain terms that she was in love with him. She had been distraught; she spoke of her fear that she would never have the opportunity to tell him how she felt again. He was leaving, their childhood was at an end and-

"You kissed her?" Suzaku asked.

Lelouch nodded, numbly. He did not mention the sudden rush of confused emotion that had preceded the action. It had been something resembling panic, like everything was about to end if he didn't do something, like he'd just stop being _him_. He had never felt anything quite like that since. Whatever it was had been what bound him to Shirley and the memory of it was what continued to do so ever since.

"You should kiss her more often," Suzaku suggested brightly. "And say you love her."

"I don't want to carry on about it," Lelouch said, somewhat exasperatedly. He was beginning to regret telling Suzaku about Shirley. "Look, let's just get something to eat, all right?"

"Yes, sir!" said Suzaku, saluting. Then he laughed, unable to keep a straight face. "Sorry, my training got ahead of me. I'll just – hey, look out!"

He had noticed movement at the window in the building they were walking past. A girl with vivid lavender pink hair was dangling precariously from the windowsill and as Suzaku and Lelouch stopped to gape at her, she elicited a feminine giggle.

"Watch out!" she cried. "Geronimo!"

She jumped.

This all happened so quickly that Lelouch could do nothing but stare. Suzaku, however, remained admirably calm and neatly caught the girl in his arms. His military training did have its benefits after all.

"Hey, uh…" He stared at the girl in his arms. "Are you all right? Aren't you-?" Suddenly, his breath hitched. His eyes widened. He let go of the girl as if she was a scalding iron.

The sound of a bland, emotionless voice drifted from the window the girl had fallen from. "You forgot your sunglasses, princess."

Lelouch suddenly felt nauseous. He took a step back and then turned away sharply, hoping the girl had not seen him. She was Princess Euphemia – if he could recognise her, she could recognise him.

"I need to go," he said quickly to Suzaku. "I'll see you later."

Suzaku threw Lelouch a frantic look, but his friend was already gone.

* * *

><p>"Pleased to meet you," Euphemia li Britannia said to Suzaku Kururugi. "My name's Euphie."<p>

For his part, Suzaku was extremely flustered by this encounter, although for different reasons to Lelouch. He had never encountered any royalty save for his friend and his first impulse was to fear that his mere presence would taint her. What would people think if a mere Honorary Britannian was seen conversing with a princess? It did not even occur to him that this was in fact the very stroke of luck he had been hoping for.

"I-I'm glad you're okay," he stuttered. He backed away hastily, bowing so deeply his head almost hit the concrete. "T-Take care of yourself, Your Highness!"

"But you didn't introduce yourself," she said, puzzled.

"Suzaku Kururugi," Suzaku answered rapidly in a very small voice.

"Suzakurugi?" Euphemia cocked her head.

"Suzaku Kururugi."

"Suzaku Kururugi!"

"Yeah," said Suzaku, smiling wanly and forgetting, for just a brief moment, the great divide between them. It was all the opening Euphemia required.

"Anya!" she called, seemingly to the window. "Come down! I'll introduce you to Suzaku Kururugi!"

"Understood," spoke the bland voice Suzaku had heard earlier. Then there was a sound of brief shuffling and another girl appeared at the window. Nonchalantly, she proceeded to leap out the window and she landed poised on her feet within a moment. Suzaku was instantly reminded of the superstition that cats would land on their feet no matter where they were dropped. The girl did not pay much overt attention to Suzaku and instead started playing with her cell phone. She had a pale, almost ghostly complexion and her hair was of the precise same shade as Euphemia's. She was dressed in a snug-fitting white coat – the standard issued knight's uniform.

"This is my knight," Euphemia announced proudly. "Anya Alstreim! Anya, say hello to Suzaku!"

"Hello," Anya intoned. She did not look up from her phone.

Euphemia turned back to Suzaku. "With my knight here, you don't have to worry about what's proper," she declared. Suzaku blinked at that; so Euphemia understood his concerns after all. "So," the princess continued with a bright smile, "is it all right if you show me around town?"

Suzaku looked at the smile on Euphemia's lips and then at her eyes (they were a lot like Lelouch's in a way, he thought) and he realised abruptly that he had no desire to say no.

"Where would you like to go?" he asked.

The princess stood up and brushed herself briskly.

"Shinjuku," she said.

* * *

><p>When Lelouch returned home, there was nothing but silence for the most part there to greet him. His maid was vacuuming the bedrooms and so Lelouch chose to sit in the drawing room. He took up embroidery for something to do, but his mind was distracted from the task at hand. It remained fixated on the street corner outside the government offices, where Euphemia Li Britannia had fallen from the skies.<p>

Euphemia, Lelouch knew, had come to Area Eleven about three years ago as a foreign envoy – he had read about that in the papers. Since then, she had done nothing of journalistic interest and so Lelouch had forgotten about her. He had certainly never dreamed of coming across her, much in the same way he had never dreamed of coming across Suzaku again. Although he had been fond of Euphemia as a child, she was still a member of the Britannian royal family. Lelouch could depend on her no further than he could throw her.

Ten years ago, terrorists had stormed the Imperial palace, an incident that had resulted in the deaths of Lelouch's mother and younger sister. Lelouch had never stopped suspecting that there had been a cover-up that day – there was, after all, no possibility that _terrorists _could storm such a well-fortified palace. Having noted that the strength of Japan's liberation forces rested on a bunny girl, Lelouch did not doubt his conclusions. Seeing Euphemia reminded him what he _would _have done if he had the power: he would have found exactly who was behind his mother and Nunally's deaths and he would have snapped their fucking necks.

Lelouch carefully treaded his needle and surveyed his embroidery. He prided himself on his rigidly straight needlework.

It was difficult to control the waves of bitterness that swept through him at times. He felt he could plunge himself into darkness if he so chose. There just wouldn't be much of a point to it. Not right now. Lelouch lived his life under constant reminders of his own blackened heritage and subsequent powerlessness. Euphemia he had not anticipated, but it mattered very little in the end. Unless…

He flipped open his cell phone and quickly dialed Suzaku's number. He asked when he had left Euphemia.

"I'm with her right now," Suzaku replied.

Lelouch inhaled sharply. "What?"

"I'm showing her around Shinjuku. Euphie just found a stray cat and – ouch!"

"Suzaku? !"

"It bit me," said Suzaku.

"Oh." Then with a shake of his head, Lelouch went on: "You didn't tell her about _me_, did you?"

"No, of course not," Suzaku insisted. Lelouch believed him.

"All right, then…" He paused. He considered asking Suzaku to bring Euphemia to him so that he could press her on the events of that fateful day. But it was too risky and he doubted Euphemia would know anything anyway. Her sister Cornelia was a different matter. In the end, Lelouch decided that, like with Kallen, he could keep the opportunity close to hand. Maybe one day he would have all the pieces necessary to bring about chaos. "Stick close to her, Suzaku," he said.

"Don't you trust her, Lelouch?" He sounded disappointed.

Lelouch trusted Euphemia like he trusted everybody he met. He could predict her moves down to the letter.

"Of course I trust her," he said, speaking in the fluent language of liars. His deceit was so palpable that it could have been the truth. "She's my sister."

Then he hung up. He picked up his embroidery and waited for Shirley, wondering what to do.

* * *

><p>Suzaku parted ways from Euphemia in a significantly lighter mood. The two of them had gotten along well and just as they were about to leave, Euphemia had asked him to give Anya his number. The implication that the two of them could have another encounter caused a strange, light, feathery sensation to well inside of Suzaku, as if a part of his stomach's interior had become a mess of sick, gooey substance. He had given his number then because he felt obligated to, and if he had to be honest with himself, he was more than a little bit frightened. Yet when he left, he did so feeling somehow more cheerful. He found himself replaying their conversations within his head at sporadic intervals. Euphemia had said she loved the Japanese and thought of them as a kind race. He wanted to believe in that.<p>

The streets he walked in looked different now. It was like something in the cosmos had tilted and now everything seemed somewhat different and yet somewhat the same. The light cast shadows from angles he had never noticed before. As he walked past a particularly tall office building, Suzaku looked up at the windows and smiled softly. He would have glanced back down again at his dirty sneakers in another moment if he had not noticed the movement up on the building roof.

At first, he did not recognise what it meant. And then he froze and stared. Someone was standing precariously at the edge of the roof, poised as if about to jump.

"No, _don't_!" he yelled and sprang instantly to his feet.

The person – it was a woman – screamed. She buried her head in her arms and was evidently sobbing. Suzaku feared that if she did not jump she would slip, and that led to the same thing. With the haste and dexterity of a desperate man, Suzaku began to scale the building.

Of the climb itself, he experienced no bodily sensation. All that he remembered afterwards was his entire body pulsating with the thought of _"I have to save her!" _He heard the woman scream – something about _NO _and _GET AWAY _– but he paid no heed. Soon, he was up on the roof beside her and he was pulling her to the side, safe from the danger of the height.

"You'll be all right. Don't cry." He did not remember what it was exactly that he said to the woman, but he knew what he was feeling and that he wanted to comfort her with all of his might. In response, the woman only wept harder and threw her arms around him. She did not perceive him, only the warmth of his torso. "Look at me," Suzaku told her gently. "You'll be fine."

So the woman did, and Suzaku's breath suddenly caught in his chest because it was at that moment he realised it wasn't fine at all. He _recognised _her.

It was then he thought of Lelouch. The woman's wracked sobs reverberated painfully throughout his entire being and all he could think of was Lelouch. His heart became heavy with the thought of his friend. He thought of the darkness in Lelouch he had noticed from the beginning but had never addressed. Suddenly, the darkness had gathered into one specific area and he was seeing it all laid it before him. He was shaken, prised apart and redefined like a man in love.

…_Lelouch…_


	5. made like a pair of porcelain dolls

**five  
>made <strong>**like ****a**** pair ****of ****porcelain**** dolls;**

Lelouch hesitated.

The problem, he mused, was that he knew Suzaku too well. He could read every subtle flicker in his expression. He knew, simply from a glance, that something had gone amiss. Something to do with Euphemia, maybe?

No, Lelouch decided. That was Suzaku's own business. If he had problems in his job, he kept them to himself. He had spared Lelouch the descriptions of what was most likely the most difficult and most humiliating job a Japanese man could be employed in. Just how many Japanese would turn around and fight for the very nation that had subjugated them?

But that was getting off the topic at hand, which was the intent behind Suzaku's gaze. Lelouch caught sight of it as he opened the door for his friend. Then Suzaku's mouth contorted into a smile. Some implacable emotion shone through his eyes.

Lelouch found that he could breathe only lightly.

He swallowed, but not too forcefully.

"Come on in, Suzaku," he said. "What's the matter?"

Suzaku winced. "How did you know, Lelouch?"

Lelouch treated that as a rhetorical question. He said, "If there's something bothering you, you should just say it."

Suzaku entered and closed the door behind him. He sat down at the table, paused for a moment and said nothing. Then abruptly, he turned his face towards Lelouch.

"Have you been taking care of Shirley?"

Lelouch felt something in his head throb slightly, like a heartbeat. "Why do you ask?"

Suzaku looked at him; the implacable emotion was back. He hesitated. "I don't know how to say this, Lelouch," he began uncertainly, but before Lelouch could reply, his expression grew firm. "You haven't been treating her well, have you?"

Lelouch saw it instantly: the gaping distance between them, the sentiments they would never share. In the past, they might have argued about it, but now Suzaku was willing to sit down. Yet standing would have been so _Suzaku_; a man could not adequately express his rage sitting down. Suzaku wanted to understand, but Lelouch already did.

So Lelouch sat down too. Not beside or opposite Suzaku at the table but rather some distance away from him on the sofa. They did not need to look at each other as they conversed.

Suzaku told him about Shirley's recent attempt at suicide.

"Where is she now?" Lelouch asked with an eerie semblance of detached calmness.

"Her friend's house," Suzaku replied. "I think her name was Milly."

"Ah," said Lelouch. In that case, he thought, he would no doubt be expecting an enraged call from his former student council president. Milly had always been particularly protective of Shirley.

It was, Lelouch thought, far too perilously simple for him to think about the practicalities. All of a sudden, his marriage seemed to have blown up in his face and for now, he registered no particular high emotion. He was shocked and his head throbbed incessantly but the chaos suited Lelouch well. He was not pleased by the situation, only cognisant of its implications and this new heightened awareness of his own mental detachment.

"I don't want to interfere," Suzaku said, "but I don't want you to be unhappy either. Or Shirley," he added.

There was a stiff, jagged pause. Neither man looked at the other.

"I seem uncaring, don't I?" Lelouch said finally.

Suzaku said, "Yes."

Lelouch smiled then at this unexpected reemergence of the blunt, straightforward Suzaku of old. That, more than anything, was what prised apart Lelouch's defences.

"I do care about Shirley," Lelouch said. He did not insist; he stated, yet with slightly more feeling than he would otherwise have spoken with. "Yes," he went on, "I am concerned about her. I don't know what brought her to do what she did."

"From what I could gather," Suzaku responded slowly, "it had something to do with you and the casino."

"She's tolerated that for a while," Lelouch said. "I don't know what changed her attitude."

But changed it had, after the last time Lelouch had been there. He remembered the fragile smile Shirley had offered him before she let him in the house. He remembered that sudden, pulling moment when he thought she was about to reproach him and he remembered the secret tears she had wept and he had pretended not to see. Lelouch almost wished he could have acted differently, but how he could have done that he did not know. He had not ascertained all the details.

Suzaku said, "She mentioned a bunny girl." He hesitated once again as if aware of the delicacy of the situation. "She said a college friend saw you... fraternising with one of them."

And Lelouch _laughed_. He laughed because he understood where the drama had come from. It had not occurred to him in his meetings with Kallen that she had any impact on him beyond his political life. But then, he was a married man. He had always considered himself above such frivolous misunderstandings.

"Do you honestly believe I am an adulterer?" he asked Suzaku, amused. "You said I was uncaring."

"I did say that, but..." Lelouch sensed that Suzaku was shaking his head. "I believe in you, Lelouch. I know you wouldn't do that."

Lelouch wondered how much of his belief consisted of pure and simple naiveté.

"You're right," he admitted. "I've only ever done those things with Shirley. I have no taste for extramarital affairs."

"Then," said Suzaku, brightening. "It was all a misunderstanding? You can talk to her?"

"Do you believe that?" Lelouch asked suddenly, turning his gaze sharply upon his best friend. "Do you really, honestly believe that?"

"Lelouch, do you really want your marriage to-?"

"Answer the question, Suzaku."

Suzaku swallowed. "If you love her," he said, "then yes."

Lelouch turned his head back away with a derisive snort. He made a decision that this time he would allow himself to clash ideals with Suzaku – the situation had called for it. It made sense that they would disagree. Love was a kind of politics, after all.

"Think," he said to Suzaku. "If a relationship is meant to be based on trust and her trust in me is so easily shaken, that speaks of failure, doesn't it?"

"Lelouch, you don't have to-"

"I've been abusing her trust for as long as we've been married," Lelouch said scornfully. "She knows that the last incident was simply the final straw."

Suzaku was speechless. Lelouch noted his victory with a humourless smile.

"Imagine," he went on, "what it would be like to be her. She goes to college; she sees the world. She's at the prime of her youth and so are her friends." A vivid image of Shirley in her stylish yet unassuming skirt was firmly entrenched in Lelouch's mind. "And yet she commits herself like an old-fashioned country girl to a marriage that has no benefits for her. Her husband is unemployed and simply spends his days in a casino. I imagine she is the laughingstock among her college friends."

"Lelouch..."

"I don't offer her any stability. I can't even give her what a woman wants the most." Lelouch spoke, because it was _Suzaku_ he was speaking to; he had never said any of this to anyone before. "I've been sterile since birth, Suzaku."

"I... I didn't know..."

"And you think a relationship like that will succeed?" Lelouch laughed scornfully.

Suzaku shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Then why?" he demanded. "Why did you even marry her in the first place?"

"Because Shirley is my Refrain."

As the last word left his lips, Lelouch heard the chair scrape aside. Suzaku was on his feet.

"Why is it?" Suzaku began slowly, every fibre of his melancholy yet genuine brand of gentleness seeping heavily into his words. "Why do you want to cast yourself as a villain, Lelouch?"

Lelouch had expected a reproach, even anger, but certainly not this. "I don't know what you mean," he said.

"Because you're not a villain," Suzaku insisted. "You just never wanted her to put you on a pedestal. Isn't that a sort of kindness too?"

That shook Lelouch. Naive people had a way of disarming others with words; they were so absurd they were profound. They made you want to see the world the same as they did. A simple, slight readjustment of the mind was all that was needed. Only the innocent could be so wise and cunning. They needed, Lelouch thought, to be protected from themselves.

"I never loved Shirley," said Lelouch, and it sounded like a defence. "In spurts, yes, but not in this idealistic way you believe."

"Maybe you do love her and you never realised."

"No." Lelouch shook his head. "I don't believe in love. It's nothing but a state of mind."

"What if I said I love you?" said Suzaku.

It was then Lelouch perceived a sort of tension in the atmosphere of the room, like a build-up of electricity that was beginning to crackle in the foreground. Lelouch looked at Suzaku then and saw an expression that was sombre enough to make a part of his heart twinge. It meant as much and as little as the world.

"Do you believe that?" Suzaku asked.

"I always believe you," Lelouch said, and it was the truth.

"Then you do believe in love," Suzaku said firmly. "You do and I'm the proof."

Looking back in months to come, Lelouch realised that Suzaku was right, the way the ideals of the innocent could be right in their own twisted little ways. And maybe, Lelouch thought then, if that was the case, then he was the only one who had ever really loved Suzaku. It was strange how in the end, everything came back to him and his excuse.

Yet for now, Lelouch was in the present and he was beginning to feel confused about Shirley again in a way he had not experienced since their graduation. And he would probably never have felt it, had it not been for Suzaku.

"It's love," Suzaku told him, his eyes softening.

That night, when Suzaku had left, Lelouch rang the solicitors and filed for a divorce.

* * *

><p>The call from Milly did not come until a good half hour later, coincidentally at around the same time Lelouch would usually be having dinner with Shirley. Milly said, "Get your arse down here," and hung up. Lelouch put down the phone. He stared at his clenched hand for a moment and then he let go. He sighed.<p>

Milly, Nina and Rivalz had no doubt taken Shirley's side. But what did Lelouch care of how he was thought of? He was in no mood for another verbal confrontation. But in the end, he did make his way to the Ashford mansion; now was as good a time as any.

Like everything about Milly, her house was grand yet curiously down-to-earth at the same time. Milly had always been a fan of extravagant displays, but not necessarily ones of exorbitant wealth. Spacious in appearance, the Ashford mansion was built like a typical Britannian mansion with high windows, but it was no marble palace: it was most certainly built from bricks. Lelouch waited at the gates and waited for the security system to let him in. He was surprised to see Milly standing outside for him, leaning with her back against the steel gates and her arms folded. The Ashford mansion lay behind her, eminently present yet overshadowed by Milly's lone figure. In particular, Lelouch was drawn to her face. In spite of her joviality, Milly had always seemed wise beyond her years. Now her maturity seemed plainly stamped across her features. She would have seemed matronly if her expression was not so hard.

"Shirley's inside," she said quietly. "She's been crying."

Lelouch winced.

"What did I tell you about not letting her cry?" Milly demanded. The anger flashed indiscriminately through her eyes. "You had better apologise, Lelouch."

"I want a divorce," Lelouch said.

Milly unfolded her arms, strode towards Lelouch and slapped him across the face.

"There," she told him, frowning thunderously. "I did that because Shirley wouldn't."

Lelouch knew that Milly was the only person who had the self-assurance to stand up to him. He appreciated the gesture, and so, far from reigning in his reaction, he placed a hand against his searing skin. He said to Milly, "I think it would be better for both of us if we parted ways."

Milly took a step backwards. She sighed; the anger had dissipated. It was not like her to remain furious at her friends.

"To be honest," she said. "I'm not that surprised. I really hoped that it would work out between you and Shirley – I thought you made a good couple. But you're not capable of opening your heart to anyone, are you, Lelouch?"

Lelouch thought about his conversation with Suzaku but said nothing of it. All of a sudden, he wanted nothing more than to do everything from the beginning again. He wanted to destroy everything around him, to cast it all into flames - only then could his world be made anew.

"Can I talk to Shirley?" he asked. At least he knew Shirley well enough to know that she would be ready to listen. She would always listen to him whenever he had something to say.

Milly nodded wearily. She knew the same thing Lelouch did. "Remember to say sorry," she said finally. "I won't forgive you if you don't."

* * *

><p>In the weeks to come, it was Shirley who remembered the soft, ringing cadences of their halcyon days. It was all she thought of during the days of her divorce. The proceedings went smoothly because Lelouch was thorough yet quick with paperwork, the type of man who needed no assistance from the law because he himself would have risen above it. He would have been a great man at many things.<p>

As for Shirley, she cried every day, and when she was not in tears, her eyes were directed at her feet, at someplace far away from the present. She remembered the past, those innocent unassuming days when a simple brush of her fingers against his had meant the very world to her.

Lelouch put the paperwork in front of her and said, "Sign here, Shirley."

"I can't," whispered Shirley. "My hand, it's-"

It was shaking too much.

"Shirley..."

"Lulu, you fool!" Shirley screeched. "I knew you never loved me! All you ever felt was sorry for me - that's why you married me!" She sniffed. "I can't handle it, Lulu. Not anymore. I thought I could – forever – but... oh, Lulu...! _Lulu_...!"

Lelouch took his hand off the paperwork, stood up, walked over to her and wordlessly embraced her. She clutched at him back, her fingers groping seemingly at nothing even when they tugged upon his shirt and she could feel the texture of _him _through the fabric. She knew the feel of him and yet she did not.

She thought about what they could have been, perhaps in another lifetime. She searched within the recesses of her mind, into someplace deep where she had to furrow in order to reach, and she thought: _what lifetime would that have been? _She did not know. Maybe it did not exist. Maybe it only had the potential to.

"You were my prince," she told him softly.

Lelouch looked away, his expression inscrutable.

"Yes," Shirley went on as another tear rolled down her cheek. "You could have been everyone's prince, Lulu, but you were always so cynical. And I always did think, you know, that you were being a hypocrite. Gambling the way you do, isn't that a kind of naiveté too?"

It was the first time she had ever openly reproached him.

Lelouch did not argue back. He only sat back down and, ever so subtly, pushed the paperwork towards her once again.

This time, she picked the pen up and signed her name.

* * *

><p>Shirley remembered that moment whenever her gaze flickered towards the ring that no longer had a place on her finger. She never had the heart to throw it away. At first, when Lelouch had mentioned divorce, she had been fought against his decision. "We can still make this work!" she had insisted. "You don't have to... not so suddenly...!"<p>

Lelouch had replied to that. He had said something, but in Shirley's mind, she may as well have spoken to a brick wall. Except brick walls did not have the power to make her body and mind tingle with meaning. They could not speak so convincingly in such a way that she could be persuaded that her feelings had no meaning. Or that by the very act of divorcing, she was really affirming those very feelings for him. He could convince of both these things at once.

As for her suicide attempt, he had addressed that too. He told her for her own good, it was best she spend time away from him so that she could be exposed to healthier relationships. It became clear to her that he held a very real concern for her wellbeing. He did not want her to hurt herself again. "But it's not you that made me want to...!" she began, but then she faltered mid-sentence. She realised in a sense, he was right, as he so very often was. What she would have wanted to say, if only she could form the argument properly in her mind, was that she had never thought it was entirely his fault either.

"Was it my fault?" she asked him. "Did I fail as your wife?" And that was the first time she cried in front of him, as brokenly as a girl could.

"No, it wasn't," Lelouch replied, but he was frowning. Not even Lelouch Lamperouge, card playing genius, could reliably read a woman's heart. He had not known how to handle Shirley's tears; in fact, he never had.

They resumed their conversation when she could make herself talk again. She smiled at him bravely and said, "I'm sorry, Lulu. I'm just so sorry..."

They continued: it was a long, dwindling talk that curved and bended with the landscape, but always inevitably led Shirley down the path Lelouch wanted it to go.

She thought about these things and how they happened, mostly in the darkness of ensuing night. The bed was still hers, but his body no longer was. After the divorce, he moved out of their mansion. He left the house and a large portion of his money with her. Another woman would have revelled in a rich man's generosity, but Shirley had not even asked for any of his wealth. He had simply given it to her and claimed it was part of the divorce settlement.

It was only after the fact, as Shirley read through the papers she had signed without the heat of her emotions affecting her, that she realised that Lelouch had lied to her once again.

She did not know how many times her husband had failed to tell her the truth. But she did know that Lelouch was not Lelouch without his mask. Being with him, Shirley had not known who she really was either. They were made like a pair of porcelain dolls.

The day after the execution of Kallen Kouzuki the "Bunny Girl Terrorist", Shirley went to see her parents. She had not seen them since she was married. She had only rung them to tell that she was fine.

"Shirley, how are you?" her father asked her anxiously. He reached forward as if to hug her, and then pulled back. His daughter was not a child anymore.

So Shirley hugged him first.

When she was a child, she had once told her father innocently that she wanted to marry him. And she could remember him saying that she would find another man she would love more than him. Shirley had been unable to imagine it at the time.

"I still don't really understand, you know," she told her father. "I still love you just as much as Lulu, only differently."

A shadow came across her father's face then. Lelouch was rich and well-bred and the divorce had left Shirley well-off, but... "He treated you so badly," Jospeh Fenette insisted.

Shirley did not reply to that immediately. She only did so as she was about to leave, to go back to the house Lelouch had left her.

"It doesn't matter, you know," she said. "I don't mind. I still love him. I could be reborn a thousand times and I'd still make the same mistake..."

She left, closing the door quietly behind her. The fairytale had come to an end.

In the dark, alone, Shirley found that she could no longer weep.


	6. white is grey is black

**six  
>white is grey is black;<strong>

The first time Suzaku mentioned the Special Administrative Zone of Japan, Lelouch spat out his coffee.

"Went down the wrong hatch?" said Suzaku sympathetically. "I understand."

"No, you don't," Lelouch responded immediately. "How would your idea even _work_?"

"It's not just my idea," Suzaku told him cheerfully. "It's Euphie's, too. We're working on it together."

It turned out that during the last few weeks while Lelouch had been caught up in his divorce proceedings, Suzaku had led a life of his own. He had met up with Princess Euphemia and her knight Anya again and not simply once either. They met at least once every weekend and apparently they would go for ice cream because Euphie loved caramel and Anya was a fan of cookies and cream. Despite being quite clearly the poorest of the three of them, Suzaku paid for every cone. Lelouch knew about this because he had seen Suzaku on one of his trysts with the princess one day. They were both wearing ridiculously oversized sunglasses, as if under the assumption that this would hide their identities. Lelouch hurried on his way because he did not want them to recognise him, and also because he considered them a public embarrassment.

Evidently, it seemed, Suzaku and Euphie had been discussing more than simply ice cream. They had been discussing politics; specifically, the issue of racism in Area Eleven.

"Euphie and I," said Suzaku fondly. "We both want a world where Japanese and Britannians can treat each other equally. Euphie says she's going to use her influence to make a zone where Japanese and Britannians are equal."

Lelouch was speechless.

"And who, pray tell, would go along with an idea like that?" he asked after a pregnant pause.

"I was hoping you would," Suzaku said quietly. There was hurt in his voice.

"Suzaku," Lelouch responded seriously. He glanced around the café; nobody seemed to be paying any attention to the two of them. He lowered his voice. "You know I can't involve myself in things like that. I'm neutral."

As he spoke, he thought of Kallen and the knife against his throat. He thought of Nunally, and he grimaced.

Suzaku peered at him, disappointment spreading across his face. "That's okay, Lelouch," he said finally. "But is it all right that you come to the zone when we make it?"

Inwardly, Lelouch's unease only festered. Outwardly, he smiled.

"Of course," he said. "I'd do it for you, Suzaku."

It was a kind of truth that Lelouch found he believed in so much, it was like a falsehood to him. Suzaku realised that, too, when Euphemia was gone and there was nothing but the musky scent of defeat between them.

* * *

><p>Light danced off the chandeliers lightly and daintily, as if it owned a pair of feet that was afraid of overstepping. The dining room itself was awash with light chatter and the pleasing yet peripheral-sounding tunes from a nearby string quartet. Distant from all of this, Euphemia li Britannia sat at her table with her legs close together and tucked under the lengths of a long, silky white dress. Her teeth were gnashed together under a pleasant, vacant smile; she was resisting the urge to fidget. She glanced up at her sister before looking squarely back down at the food on her plate: <em>Bouillabaisse.<em> Half-heartedly, Euphemia took a pigeon's bite at her food. Meanwhile, deftly and precisely, Viceroy Cornelia was at work cutting up the veal on her plate.

Seated beside Euphemia, Anya paid little heed to the atmosphere around her. She was attentive, in the sense that being attentive meant playing Tetris on her cell phone with a bored expression on her face. While it seemed Anya was barely listening to Euphemia's attempt at light-hearted chatter, Euphemia knew from experience that her knight always took in everything she said.

Today, the princess was nervous beneath her smiles. She could feel her heart wrench and palpitate inside of her, even though nothing very heart wrenching had actually happened. Anya noticed, and instead of saying anything, she looked up at her princess and calmly held her gaze. She nodded once.

Euphemia gulped.

"Is something the matter, Euphie?" Cornelia asked, putting down her fork and regarding her younger sister with puzzlement.

"Well, er, you see…" Euphemia began nervously. She took a deep breath so that she could let the resolve sink into her. That was what being a politician was about, right? Always seeming as if you knew what you were doing.

And today, Cornelia was in a good mood; she had recently come back from a successful military campaign in Area Eight where she herself was declared the MVP of the engagement. Unfortunately, the moment Euphemia defined the Special Administrative Zone of Japan to her, Cornelia's expression dropped. She regarded her sister with an open jaw.

"What gave you such a… preposterous idea?" Cornelia demanded.

In another lifetime, Euphemia might have bit her lip and quieted down, but before she could bite back her tongue, she saw Suzaku's face in her mind's was the right thing to do, she thought.

"Don't you think the current Honorary Britannian system is such a condescending approach to racial equality where the Japanese are concerned?" Euphemia retorted. She said it with more feeling than she expected. When she finished, she was almost as stunned as Cornelia was.

When they were young, Euphemia had shown no particular prowess at any physical or intellectual pursuit. Though she had rudimentary training to pilot a Knightmare Frame, she had none of Cornelia's strength and none of the cunning Lelouch or Schneizel had displayed. She had not even been allowed to finish school. Like her, Clovis was at heart a soft man, and yet she had none of his artistic talent, either.

And so Euphemia found her calling in life at the dinner table: disagreeing with her sister. This was particularly strange because since their early childhood, Euphemia had not so much as raised her voice against Cornelia. Cornelia's presence was like a warm, insulating blanket to her.

For a very long moment, Cornelia stared at Euphemia. The slow realisation was dawning on her that her little sister intended to enter the dangerous world of politics. She could come to only one conclusion.

"Are you seeing an Eleven boy?" she asked finally.

The conversation between sisters that followed was the prelude to the events that transpired the next day.

* * *

><p>Cornelia pointed her sword at Suzaku Kururugi's throat and said: "On your knees, boy."<p>

They were standing at the centre of a former baseball stadium in Shinjuku. The stadium was in disuse now: the stands were worn and beaten down by the elements and the overgrown grass on the pitch carried the faint scent of neglect. The sun beat down upon the two of them, casting a spell of humidity characteristic of summertime in Area Eleven.

Standing several feet away, Euphemia and Anya watched on. Anya actually seemed fairly engaged in what was going on and was dutifully filming the action with her camera phone. Euphemia, on the other hand, was biting on her nails. Suzaku threw Euphemia a frantic glance, to which Euphemia mouthed in response: _My__ sister__'__s __a __nice __person. __I __swear!_

"Your name?" Cornelia asked coldly.

"Private Suzaku Kururugi, Your Highness."

"You're in the army?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

Cornelia considered that for a moment.

"I'll make this very clear with you," she said frostily. "I don't give a rat's ass if you're Britannian or an Eleven – you have no claims to my sister whatsoever. Is that understood?"

Suzaku was nodding so hard, his head seemed on the verge of falling off his neck.

"But, Your Highness," he added quickly. "We're not really like that. We've been talking about-"

"Quiet," Cornelia cut in. "I hate men who speak out of turn."

Suzaku fell silent. Cornelia motioned to her knight Guilford, who stood behind her with a carefully neutral expression on his face.

"Give Kururugi your sword, Guilford," she said.

"Your Highness!" Guilford exclaimed, flabbergasted.

"Do it," Cornelia said sternly, and Guilford had no choice but to comply. He unstrapped the fencing blade from his belt. A flicker of dislike and trepidation passed through Guilford's bespectacled gaze as he looked at Suzaku and relinquished his sword.

Suzaku was baffled. "What is this-?"

"Now," Cornelia announced. "We fight."

"Sister!" Euphemia cried out reproachfully. "You're not going to hurt him, are you? You said you wouldn't!"

"A true Britannian does not judge by race," Cornelia responded firmly. "A true Britannian judges by strength. The strong strive to create a better future. Britannia has no place for the weak. And so," she said, sweeping her gaze back upon the hesitant Suzaku. "If you can prove yourself to possess more strength than your countrymen did ten years ago, then I will listen to what you have to say about yourself. I promise no more, but no less, either."

Suzaku blinked, glanced once more at the sheepish Euphemia and then something settled over his eyes so that they almost seemed darker in hue. His hands closed tightly around the grip of the sword's hilt. He nodded firmly. Then he stood up straight and positioned himself several feet away from Cornelia. His sword hand was outstretched.

Cornelia smiled then, proud and haughty. Her face, stern, rigid and yet beautiful, like an old Britannian statue, was reflected against the sheen of her blade.

* * *

><p>There was something, Lelouch thought, which was unusual about normalcy. The pursuit of it in itself held a kind of strangeness to it.<p>

The first time Lelouch went to the casino after divorcing Shirley, he noticed that the price of parking had increased since the last time he had visited. Not that it was of any real concern to Lelouch, but still: _those__ greedy__ bastards_, he thought with a shrug. The idea only strengthened when he glanced towards the roulette tables and noticed that the wheel had an extra green pocket: '00'. That meant the odds of winning roulette were even longer than they were before. Lelouch snorted and moved on.

When he reached the blackjack table, he scanned around the vicinity, looking perhaps out of habit for Kallen. The bunny girl was nowhere to be found. Lelouch made a small profit that day and at length, he went back home to his newly rented out apartment. That was the first day.

On the second day, he found the price of drinks had increased. He played, and then he went home.

On the third day, he met Kaname Ougi.

Ougi was a stranger to Lelouch. What was more, he was the nondescript sort of stranger Lelouch could encounter a thousand times in his life without putting all those meetings down as anything more than simple coincidence. He was the best sort of Eleven: the sort who seemed to have no real presence and, if he took Refrain, wouldn't be too loud about his reminiscing. He had a face too used to giving easy, meaningless smiles that his dourness seemed shallow and the sternness of his face seemed simply stiff rather than rigid.

He regarded Lelouch with openly suspicious eyes as he sat down at the poker table. Lelouch instantly understood that a connection had to exist between him and Kallen. So the girl had told her associates about him, Lelouch thought.

Lelouch peered at Ougi and nodded once. Ougi fidgeted uncomfortably with the collar of his brown jacket. Then Lelouch paused, thought of Suzaku and of pink-haired princesses. He thought of his own insatiable need for insurance. He looked up at Ougi and saw a man that could fit quite easily into the palm of his hand. He would have a smooth texture, no unnecessary sharp ends. Nothing like a queen or a rook or a bishop.

"What," he asked slowly, his smile calculating and devilish, "are you really fighting for?"

* * *

><p>The Special Administrative Zone of Japan was not instated in the next week or even in the next month. By the time Lelouch saw posters of it on street corners and heard murmurings of it on the street, he had almost forgotten about its very existence.<p>

Before it happened, though, Lelouch was with Suzaku and Suzaku was with Lelouch.

"So let me get this straight," Lelouch said to Suzaku. "You're going to allocate an area-"

"Shinjuku," said Suzaku.

"Shinjuku," Lelouch amended himself. "And in there, Japanese and Britannians are equal. But how can you determine equality?"

Sometimes, they went to those theme parks Clovis made. Sometimes, Lelouch would look around the park and see all the Elevens and Britannians in the same establishment, yet never interacting. Some rides were meant for the Elevens and some were meant for the Britannians. But there were never any signs saying which were which. One had to tell simply from a glance.

"On paper," Lelouch said, "Britannians and Eleven are equal."

"What are you trying to say, Lelouch?" Suzaku asked him.

"Nothing," Lelouch said, turning his head away slightly.

"I think equality is when you don't even know you're equal, you just are," Suzaku declared. "Because something like distinctions would never even cross your mind. White is grey is black."

"Only a child would think like that," Lelouch told him.

Suzaku smiled. "But isn't that the thing with childhood?"

"So what are you going to do? Turn everyone into children? Bring them all into Neverland?"

"I don't know," said Suzaku vaguely. He was peering at the water slide and at a young boy and girl coming out of the water together, hand in hand. He spoke up again suddenly. "Remember how terrible you were at swimming, Lelouch?"

"Shut up," said Lelouch exasperatedly. "I told you to never speak of that again."

"You couldn't even doggy paddle." Suzaku grinned. "I had to hold your hand like those kids over there. Like this."

Lelouch felt the warmth of Suzaku's calloused hand against his softer palm.

"What are you doing?" Lelouch snapped, feeling an odd, light tingle touch against his chest.

And Suzaku laughed and laughed and laughed. What was worse, he didn't let go of Lelouch's hand either, not until he dragged Lelouch to the water slide and pushed him down to the bottom.

* * *

><p>When Suzaku fought Cornelia, nothing seemed to happen immediately. The sounds of their blades crossing was only just beginning to ring in their ears when Cornelia stopped and said, "That's enough." She gave Suzaku a curt nod, the sort of warrior's acknowledgment that said all that needed to be said without words. Then she turned to Euphemia and gave her verdict: "Ask Clovis. Politics was never my thing."<p>

And so Euphemia did.

When Clovis la Britannia heard about the Special Administrative Zone of Japan, a frown crossed his face and he said, "Euphie, Euphie, Euphie." He folded his hands across his desk and spoke, in that well-intentioned condescending tone Euphemia knew always preceded an outright refusal.

"I'll take full responsibility," she cut in quickly, before Clovis could go on. "You won't have to worry about anything."

"But Euphie," Clovis said concernedly. "That sort of thing, it wouldn't be _seen _as-"

"It _is _right," Euphemia declared. She smiled sweetly with all the genuine earnest of a well-meaning toddler. "Don't you think?"

There was a pause. Clovis peered at his younger half-sister before standing up at his desk and inclining his head towards the window.

"We are not the same as them, Euphie," he said at length.

"But we're all human!" Euphemia insisted. Again, she found herself thinking of Suzaku; she knew exactly what his chivalry meant to her.

She decided to be persistent. She spoke about how she was going to change the world, how she wanted to see people smile and the lengths to which she would go about to achieve that. She spoke until she saw her brother's features soften and crease into a relenting smile, tinged with melancholy. She spoke with all her passion until he said yes.

"But oh, Euphie," said Clovis sadly when all was said and done. He was genuine, of course. He always was with his siblings. "They are different from us. They always will be..."

* * *

><p>"I hate them all," said Nina Einstein.<p>

"Oh, is that so?" Lelouch asked his old school friend as he lifted a glass of champagne to his lips.

Nina nodded fervently. Her face was red and she spoke with a slur. Her birthday party was one of the few occasions where she allowed herself to become utterly drunk and today was really no different from all of her parties since the day she had turned eighteen. Lelouch found it a bit of an embarrassment, although usually by the time she was drunk, all of his other friends were, too, so nobody really minded. Mercifully, Lelouch held his liquor well.

Nina was a ranting sort of drunk. She would gather up at least one hapless friend (usually Lelouch, for no reason he could discern) and she would launch into a breathless tirade about some obscure subject. The first time this happened, Lelouch was nonplussed – who would have guessed quiet, demure Nina had so much to say?

Her most popular topic seemed to be what she really thought of the Elevens.

"They're disgusting!" She banged her fist on the table, upsetting some of the alcohol that was still left over the tablecloth. "They're always doped to the eyelids! No fuckin' dignity!"

Lelouch thought he could see quite a lot of hypocrisy in that statement but said nothing of it. He called over Milly, who was at that moment attempting to grope Shirley's breasts, so that she could handle Nina. As he did, his eyes locked with Shirley's and there was a pause that seemed to stretch into yesterday. Then Lelouch looked away and busied himself with cleaning up the mess on the tables.

When the party was over and done with, Rivalz was the one who took charge of Nina. As a bartender, he was used to handling drunks.

"You know," he said to Lelouch that night, as he carried the slumped over Nina over his shoulder. "What Nina said reminds me of a funny story that happened the other day. You know Charles vi Britannia's speech?" (Lelouch knew, all right. He knew a bit too well.) "There were a bunch of Elevens in the bar when his speech was playing on the TV and they stood up and started yelling 'All fuck Britannia!'" Rivalz chuckled. Lelouch nodded coolly in response.

This was how he lived these days, not totally in the present but not totally in the past either.

He dreamed of Nunally again that night, but instead of seeing the colour of warmth and peace, he saw his sister blind and feeble, groping futilely into the dark. He saw a rain of gunfire and for some reason his limbs would not move in response. He watched helplessly as the bullets impaled Nunally and her mouth fell open haltingly in response, as if everything was occurring in slow motion. The blood dribbled down her head and across her chest in thick droplets, relentlessly, until there was nothing left save for the thin, wispy memory of her.

(In the background, his father was pumping his fist and he was shouting, his eyes wide in ecstasy: "All hail Britannia!")

* * *

><p>There was a common joke the Japanese often told each other: How many Britannians does it take to change a light bulb?<p>

The answer was seven. One to send in the light bulb, one to inspect it, one to send it back and demand proper license to have it changed, one to read the paperwork, one to lose the paperwork, one to find the paperwork and one more to realise no one needed any damned paperwork anyway.

It came down to a common complaint about the Britannians, particularly in the upper class. They were a bureaucratic lot: in order to become an Honorary Britannian, one had to sign a relevant form, which sometimes took months to be processed. Like most matters related to the Japanese, Euphemia's request forms for the Special Administrative Zone of Japan (abbreviated to SAZ) were sent to a low priority pile and subsequently took months to even be considered. First, they needed to be read and approved of by the joint governors of Area Eleven (Clovis and Cornelia) and they also needed to be approved by a representative of each major faction of knights. It was a simple matter getting Anya's approval but for other factions such as the Glaston Knights, there was an inevitable wait. At first, Euphemia waited patiently, but as the months passed and she had no good news to report to Suzaku, she began to feel useless. What, she wondered, was the point of being a princess if it only limited her?

She called her knight to her chambers with a simple goal in mind. "Anya!" she declared. "We have to go talk to these knights in person. We have to do something!"

"You're working very hard, aren't, Your Highness?" Anya replied nonchalantly.

"Of course, Anya! It's the most important thing! Oh, and sit down, I want to brush your hair."

Obediently, Anya sat.

"Kururugi Suzaku," she murmured the name aloud as Euphemia set about untangling the knots in her pink hair.

"Yes?" said Euphemia, peering down curiously at Anya. "What about him?"

"He's the only Japanese you know."

Euphemia paused. Her brush froze in mid-stroke. "We should sneak out tonight and meet some more Japanese people then!" she suggested brightly.

Anya's eyelids closed halfway. Unbeknownst to Euphemia, a sudden icy chill had touched her knight's heart. "I'm tired," Anya replied.

"But what about the Japanese people?" Euphemia replied, puzzled. "And the knights?"

"Maybe later," said Anya with a yawn, curling up on the bed beside her princess.

That same night Lelouch awoke in a cold sweat, mumbling his father's chant under his breath, Euphemia found herself dreaming of Nunally too. It had been far too long. Although Euphemia could not see the small, shadowy figure in her dream, she knew wordlessly that it was her poor, deceased half-sister in the way people who dreamed always somehow just _knew_. But no matter how near Euphemia drew, Nunally always seemed just out of arm's length. Even so, Euphemia woke up the next morning smiling.

It was the last peaceful night she had before the forms returned to her and the world was changed forever. She did not have to wait that long after all. But perhaps in her eyes, it was too long for comfort.

* * *

><p><strong>Author<strong>**'****s**** note:** Now we get to the real meat of the story. To me, it makes sense that Suzaku and Euphie would have to fight for the SAZ in this universe because in the canon, on both occasions where the SAZ was approved by Britannian authorities, it was done because of ulterior motives to lure out Zero. I have a different direction I want to take this subplot from the original series, so please look forward to the next update.


End file.
